Of course, the setting up of an aristocracy within an absolute monarchy is a painful and contradictory historical process, inevitably fraught with numerous conflicts. Certainly, in the course of these conflicts, the single leadership—as the Scandinavian experience, for example, shows—could base itself not only on the bureaucracy, but also on the city dwellers, the service landholders, and even on the peasantry. The aristocracy in its turn could seek political allies in various social strata. The compromise between them could take various forms. However, what is important for us here is that both the single leadership and the aristocratic personnel were elements in a single system of absolute monarchy, and as a rule set themselves the goal not of destroying each other, but merely of finding an advantageous form of compromise. I say "as a rule," because when in the France of the late Bourbons, the kings in fact tried to rid themselves of the political interference of the aristocracy, the absolute monarchy, as Montesquieu noted, began to degenerate into despotism. But, I repeat, as a rule the argument between absolute monarchy and aristocracy concerned the
In other words, contrary to Kliuchevskii's premise, absolute monarchy
But if Kliuchevskii's premise was incorrect, his conclusions also became dubious. This applies to the idea that "the life of the Muscovite state even without Ivan would have been set up in the same way in which it was set up before him and after him,"[201] and that the Oprichnina was a random and arbitrary historical accident, connected with the personal character of Tsar Ivan.
The connection of the Oprichnina with the Russian political tradition is demonstrated very easily by Kliuchevskii's own analysis— which, alas, entirely contradicts his own conclusions. Does he not assert that "the sovereign,
It is another matter entirely—contrary to the opinion of the despotists, who see nothing but this tradition of the patrimonial appanage prince in Russian political history—that it not only did not dominate in sixteenth-century Muscovy, but hewed a path for itself only at enormous cost and with a great many victims. The Oprichnina itself is proof of this. If the Muscovite kingdom of the sixteenth century in fact merely reproduced the characteristic features of the Eastern Roman Empire, as Toynbee postulates, why, for example, did the despot need a coup d'etat, renunciation of the throne, manifestos to the people, a division of the country into two parts, an agreement with the boyars and the clergy, mass terror, a second capital, and a parallel apparatus of administration? According to the account of contemporaries, the tsar returned to Moscow after the revolution quite grey at thirty-five years of age. A Byzantine autocrator would simply have compiled lists of proscriptions, and one fine night, as the saying goes, have taken his opponents from their beds with his bare hands. Why did Tsar Ivan behave differently? Why did he need a revolution in place of a "night of the long knives," if not in order to break up the existing order of the state, created by a different, competing absolutist tendency?